Collected Poems

by Chuck Guilford

Intermission

You remember how slow it could get when Howard rememberedhis summers in Nevada, at the 2G Ranchwith Keith, and the nightin Winnemucca — at Kitty’s Kozy Korner and the fight after thatoutside Winners’ Casino,

deeper than than any saladyou ever ate, no matter the dressingor whether you built it yourselfout of olives and lettuce,out of sunflower seedsand bits of real bacon,

After too many glasses of JoseCuervo, or whatever the house brand is,maybe Sauza, at that placein the upper valleywhere they stuff the rainbowtrout with shrimp and crab

and the waitressleaves her blouse unbuttonedto there.

Which may explain whyafter seventeen yearsJerry threw Sandy outfor messing arounddown at the credit union,with her boss’s brother,and both of them — her and this guy —

came out to pick up her things,and Jerry starts shooting, not reallyat them, but over their headsand they started running,both of them back through the mud to his Honda and took off like paint. He never saw themagain and I could go onback to Jerry’s father,or the winter that Howard and Keithand I spent in Reno. But, hell.You haven’t been listeningand I really don’tgive a damn.

Look now,here comes the band back againwith that crazy guystill on the sax.